


Carabiner

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter), Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)



Series: The Mountains Are The Same [39]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 18:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5712184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/Primarybufferpanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Carabiner (biner): Forged aluminum devices of various shapes (oval, D, etc.) with a spring-loaded gate through which a climbing rope can be threaded, used to connect to protection or to provide connections between parts. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>“Water,” she called, then looked back to the rest of the crew and held out her hand, “Give me a canteen.”</p><p>They looked startled. "He's gone feral, Boss. Why'd you wanna feed a feral water?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carabiner

_I wish Noxious wasn't dead, so I could kill him_ , Janey thought, watching as they came upon yet another stalled vehicle, a bloody body nearby. The warboy who was driving her car, Miles, got quiet, and she could feel the tension in all of them racheting up. They'd found two cars so far, with two sets of dead warboys. It had been bad, from the look of the bodies.

Max had warned her it would be bad. She hadn't taken his words, and especially the look in his eyes, lightly.

She'd thought she was prepared.

One of the cars had been stripped down, all its useable parts loaded on the trailer. The other had needed little more than fuel and some blackthumb affection to start, and had joined the convoy. There'd been an argument about who got to drive it, and she'd pointed at the warboys who had taken the lead on the approach, had examined the dessicated bodies of Noxious' crew.

Of course, now the rest were clamouring to approach the wrecks they found, hoping to be awarded with a car too.

The body they came upon was a little distance away from the car, as if he'd ran after Noxious' crew and then collapsed. It was - there were bite marks, and less dried blood than there ought to have been.

Janey swallowed.

"Careful," she called to the warboys who were approaching the vehicle. The other warboy, the one who'd come out on top, might still be alive. She wasn't sure if to hope for that or not.

Check glanced back at her. "Yes, Boss."

Limo spread out the net they had brought and hadn't needed so far.

Janey waited, watching them approach the car, satisfied with how careful they were. Warboys had their own way of doing things, but she wasn't unhappy with the way they were following her directions.

There was a dry, hoarse cry and sudden motion, and a moment later Limo had his net around a spindly figure and wrestled it to the ground. Audi and Rims immediately rushed over to catch the edges of the net and weigh it down.

She approached cautiously, rifle at ready, but by the time she got close it seemed excessive. The war boy they’d captured was thin to the point of horror, looking like a skeleton without any paint at all, and he was easily weighed down by the crew fresh from the Citadel.

“Water,” she called, then looked back to the rest of the crew and held out her hand, “Give me a canteen.”

They looked startled. "He's gone feral, Boss. Why'd you wanna feed a feral water?"

"Because this could've been any of you and,” She wasn't sure they would understand yet that, “I would do this if you were there instead.”

She was stared at blankly, until gazes seemed almost ripped away to look over at the captured war boy, as the crew spread themselves to circle them protectively, even if it made Janey feel like she’s been thrown into a match in their so-called Pit.

“Keep him down,” Janey ordered, as she approached slow. "And turn him face-up."

The warboy hissed weakly, his face covered in dried blood. She trickled some water into his mouth and he sputtered as if he had forgotten how to swallow, so she stopped, and went slower, trying to balance between being too much and being too cruel.

“Breathe,” she told him gently, as the war boy tried to drink faster, laid her free hand on the curve of his head, the netting a web between them. “There’ll be more, just breathe and take your time.”

She heard the murmuring of her crew.

"Alky, Stick, examine the car," she tasked, "Miles, park up the convoy. We'll be here for the night."

An hour later the warboy had stopped fighting, his eyes clearing a little. She'd fed him little swigs of water, trying to make sure his stomach wouldn't rebel and throw it all back up.

Her crew was avoiding him. She couldn't blame them. It was hard to ignore the other body a little ways down the road.

The canteen was still mostly full, not daring to give him so much so fast, and Janey took the chance to crumble some salted bean paste into it and shake it up thoroughly. Gale had suggested it before she’d set off, after Janey consulted with her over Max’s worries. When Janey tested it, she found it a mostly thin, bean flavored liquid. It still had some small chunks but maybe if she poured slowly, they won’t escape the lip and become a choking hazard.

It took most of the night before she got enough into him that he was able to speak, pushing the canteen away. Though he still refused to say his name. She thought the others must know, but they wouldn't tell her his name, as if they thought he'd lost it and he agreed.

He was sitting quietly by now, freed from the netting, a miserable looking man with sunken eyes and ashen beneath his sunburn. There were two war boys at all times with their eyes on him, something which Janey had not ordered but found useful all the same.

She finally checked on her lookouts and then settled down to sleep, thinking it was nothing.

* * *

 

It wasn’t nothing.

Janey stood up from her crouch, with a tired sigh. The war boys were looking at her face, and then back down and around them, some seeming to ignore them to scan the horizon. Lookouts.

“So needless to do so,” she muttered, and saw some twitch at the words as if listening.

At her feet was that nameless war boy, body cold, face bloodied, hand curled around a sharp rock.

"Why didn't you stop him?"

Some of her crew shuffled uneasily. Audi finally said, "He was quiet. Didn't want us to know until it was too late."

"That was his friend," said Check, gesturing in the direction they'd found the first warboy.

Oh.

Her car was nearby, and she headed towards it, and from the corner of her eye she caught some motion.

But it was only her crew, peeling out of the area behind her, being folded into her wake. The closest one saw her looking and held out her rifle. She accepted it to sling over her shoulder, nodded to him in acknowledgement, using the motion to sneak a look at the others. Janey wasn’t sure she could read them, but some caught her eyes and nodded, pensive looking.

* * *

 

"Boss?" Miles said the next day, and when she looked, offered her a belt. She accepted it without thinking, examining it. It didn't really look different from the belts they all wore, worn and used but in decent nick.

"Not bad. Put it with the other salvage," she nodded, handing it back. She didn't much like that they were stripping the bodies they found, but she was practical enough not to leave functional clothes to the desert or the scavengers.

"Y-yes Boss," Miles said, expression doing something complicated and hard to read under his clay.

He did as she said but caught what appeared to be a sympathetic shoulder pat from Razor.

Her patrol had gone out with two cars, and started its return with seven. Good thing they'd brought enough fuel. The warboys were ecstatic, so many of them having been designated driver and lancer. She suspected most of these boys would never have had that chance, before.

She kept reminding them that it might not last once they were back at the citadel, that the council might decide the cars needed to be used differently, but she didn't think that was sticking much at all.

The last stop before they reached the Citadel, already standing invitingly on the horizon, she was offered another belt, and this time Janey paid more attention to the warboy offering it than the belt, remembering the odd byplay with Miles. It was Check, one of the older war boys the others looked to for guidance sometimes. He was standing up straight, proud, but she could see the eagerness in his eyes as she accepted the belt from him.

It had a little fringe of bits of chain and strips of red cloth on the front.

Oh.

This was not salvage, and thinking about it, the one Miles had given her probably hadn't been either.

"Just— want ya ta look right, Boss," Check said, shrugging as if it didn't matter.

It did matter. This looked like they'd made it. She remembered seeing a red neckcloth on one of the bodies they'd found. She could see the others pointedly not paying attention to them in that obvious way that meant she was centered in the midst of eavesdroppers.

"All right, then."

The drivers and riders on the other cars buzzed excitedly among themselves when she belted on what they'd made. And, with the new belt about her hips, when she straightened it was like every man in her crew did too.

She glanced over the men, and decided that whatever flame this was, it was probably better not to fan it. She'd already told them the cars might not remain theirs, perhaps it was best not to acknowledge what they were doing here too much.

Probably just excitement from being out on the road. Most of her crew had been employed in menial tasks around the Citadel or in the infirmary, when Joe emptied his warboys out onto the road. A lot of them had tumours, or old injuries that hindered them in some way, some were shorter or slighter or daugthersons. They were probably just excited to have been taken on a mission like this.

 

Their return to the Citadel went smoothly, her crew proudly taking care of the cars and the salvage while she went up to the council to inform them of what they'd found.

She ran into Ace on her way up, and his mouth crooked in amusement as he took in her appearance, her belt.

He sketched her a quick salute.

"Hopeful warboys, huh?"

"They'll forget about it, I'm sure."

Ace raised his eyebrows, but hummed agreeably.

(Later, she'd think back on this moment and laugh.)

 


End file.
